Chelsea’s Blog #001
~Re-boot~
You know, there is a hugely wrong stereotype of women like me and in all honesty it exists because a lot women act like entitled brats and act like the world owes them something. This is simply based on who their parents are, or how many zeros are in their bank account. In fact, SCW even encouraged the behaviour by allowing a stable of women like that. It's an insult to women like me because I may be from the upper crust of society, I’ve never really been accepted. I always stood precariously on the edge. Some days I would be the newest member and other days they suddenly remembered that I am half mexican and physically I don't look like them with lilly white porcelain skin, blue eyes and perfect hair.
But that's not to say that I am not beautiful. And there are many other women who are of mixed heritage who are very beautiful.
Don't confuse this for me being ‘nice’ though. That is not something I would consider one of my personality traits. Because I am far from nice. If I wanted to, I could cut down anyone and leave their guts exposed.
So it's funny that the booking team of SCW chooses to put me up against a woman who names herself after an 80’s rock bank. Who seems to have gotten in a T.A.R.D.I.S or Delorean to bring us this... Marvel of wrestling.
Enlighten me if I am wrong, has she done anything of significance since signing here? I know that once upon a time, she held a tag team championship with someone with an equally ridiculous getup. Iron Maiden. Do either of you even know what a real Iron Maiden is?
I assume not. It is yet another violation of copyright by infringing on the name of two popular bands. Why they were popular is beyond me. My father seems to recall that people went crazy for them. There are no screaming fans for this woman though. She is only known for being brutal. She likes to use her fists and weapons. In my opinion that just shows a lack of creativity, a lack of that particular brand of cunning that gets you out of sticky situations. It also probably means having agility and speed, two things I happen to excel at.
I have to wonder though what is going on in the mind of our owners. First by taking me on via the influence of my father's name and then to essentially think they are leading me to slaughter by placing me against what can arguably be described as the brutalist woman on the roster. I assume it was to test my endurance. To see if I was worth the stock my birth certificate was printed on.
That is fine. When I stand victorious over this woman, they will have automatically given me the best moniker that this company can afford without awarding me a title.
Monster Slayer.
And after that? Who can say anything about my credibility? They put me up against a woman that could break me in half, yet when she doesn't it is only to my benefit whereas they have seen it as a way to eliminate another legacy rookie. The difference is, I am not like any other legacy wrestler. I don't ride the coattails of my father's fame. I am not demanding title shots or my name in lights. It's why I intend to beat this faker with a bad perm and send her back to her Pantera albums and rum mixed drinks. To leather pants and blue eyeshadow. Time to downgrade to ponytails, mom jeans and sappy Barry Manilow songs, dear. You won't be missing the rains in Africa but you sure will miss that reputation of breaking newbies.
We may have to re-boot this match from last week due to whatever ‘flight complications’ you had but I assure you ‘Sister’ I am going to make you regret ever being booked against me.
Chels out~!
****
:::OFF CAMERA:::
It’s not surprising whenever my brother Hayden visits. Mainly because he calls first to make sure our father isn’t in the apartment but also because there is usually a pattern.
It had been eighteen months since the last time.
Check.
He had called stating that he missed his baby sister
Check
He sounded burnt out over the phone with that certain drawl to his voice that indicated that he was actually sober, which meant he wanted one thing and one thing only and it was not the company of his ‘baby’ sister. It was Money.
Oh money, the root of all evil but the one thing you could not live without in this world. Especially if you had grown accustomed to the lifestyle that I had. My mother was born into so she had a certain reputation, so you can imagine why we hardly spoke at this current time and then my father who was considered, new money. Someone that had acquired it after hitting a windfall or working a high profile job which allowed them to accumulate it over time, but lacked the certain... breeding that came with always knowing you had money at your disposal.
No, dear old dad grew up in Mexico. But most of the people that watched me and the rest of the SCW wrestle on television with stars in their eyes were from middle America. Whether it be because they envied us for our skill, envied the men who got to touch the bodies of us attractive ‘eye candy’ ‘babes’ in a ring or because they simply wanted to have the money that came with being on television but in all honestly, if you wanted to get rich... wrestling was not the way to do it.
No the best way to get a lot of money quickly with the least amount of depreciation to yourself was to marry someone already rich and then live it up, as they say.
Emilio’s mother was not born into money.
So while Dad was travelling the country, his first wife Cordelia was at home nursing the accident my father had left in her womb. I even believe that for the first five years of Emilio’s life, he didn’t even know he existed. You see, their marriage was a ‘drunken Vegas’ debacle that quickly was remedied with a quick and easy divorce. Cordelia got a large one time settlement check and another mouth to feed and my father got to walk away like nothing happened. That was until Cordy showed up at one of his shows and caused a big row about it all.
They tried to make it work for a few months but of course my father’s eyes were on younger, prettier women. I.e. my mother Patricia.
And then so ended that relationship and despite Cordy’s attempts to keep Emilio away, well... he refused to not see his father. The visits were often strained and uncomfortable. Emilio trying to win the approval of his father but failing because my father was all about his little girl. Me.
Do I feel bad that my father basically abandoned my older half brother to give me his attention? I suppose I should, but I don’t. I blame my upbringing and the selfishness that comes with it.
Of course when my younger brother Mateo was born only eleven months later, well Emilio became an afterthought. Another bill for my father to pay, until he grew old enough to follow in Emilio Payne’s footsteps.
Opening the door, my brother, who had decided to grow out his dark hair and have that... hipster coiff hanging in a limp unwashed ponytail halfway down his back, was standing in front of me and surprisingly, despite my assumption based on our phone conversation, he looks relatively bright eyed. In fact, he didn’t have the appearance of someone looking for money to feed his heroin addiction at all but that of a man that had decided to clean up, completely.
He grabs me in a hug, tight as if he actually cares about me. I gingerly pat his shoulder and feel a little uncomfortable that he’s held the hug a little longer than what I deemed socially acceptable. He grabs my shoulders to look me over.
“Look at you! Grown up a lot since last I saw you.”
I scoff.
“Please EJ. You saw me eighteen months ago and I am hardly a girl anymore.”
He laughs, “Oh Chels. You’re always so negative. It’s the thing to be called and want to be a girl rather than a woman. It makes you appear younger, vibrant, attractive.”
“Am I not any of those things still or is 22 the new 50?”
He laughs.
“Of course not. You look great as always.”
He invites himself in. At least that much hasn’t changed. He takes a seat on the sofa and I can’t help but notice that despite the fact that he doesn’t appear to be addicted to anything at this moment, he still has this aroma of unwashed and pungent. Quickly I think about how I might have to call someone to come and steam clean the white designer sofa he had taken up a seat on.
“So, what do I owe the pleasure Emilio?”
I walk over to the wet bar. Pour myself and him a drink and bring it back, handing it to him he takes a sniff and takes a small polite sip before placing it on the table in front of him. He leans forward, placing his elbows on his upper thighs.
“I want you to go into business with me.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“What sort of business?”
“Manager.”
I laugh.
“I have just started my wrestling career, I hardly want to be your manager. And besides that, based on your track record I would only be out to lose big on this sort of investment.”
He shakes his head.
“No. I’m clean. I have something lined up with a place and I want you to be there. I don't want you to give up SCW, this is like a... side gig and maybe on occasion I can be there for you too.”
I chuckle.
“Oh EJ. You are too funny.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are, but the answer is no. For the same reasons as before, I don’t want you to have anything to do with my career. I have worked far too hard to have you squander it.”
“Just... think about it. You may be a Payne and you may have all the training from Dad but you’re still new to all this as an athlete.”
“I grew up around it a lot more than you did.”
“True. But what about those that would take advantage of it. Besides, Maybe I could negotiate a better contract. I know that Dad basically bought your contract.”
I take a seat. It was true I didn’t like that part but I was determined to prove that it didn’t matter, that regardless they had made a good decision in bringing me in.
“Or even just be there to support you. Like family should.”
“No.” I say.
“No?”
“You heard me. I assume that your ears are still something that are not permanently injured correct? Truth be told I don't trust you and as sober as you appear to be right now, your... appearance says otherwise. Couldn’t you at least have showered before you came over.”
Emilio stands.
“I just took a long flight to get here. So I’m sorry if my appearance isn't up to your fake standards.”
He sighs.
“Listen, I really just want an excuse to actually spend time with you.”
He starts walking toward the door.
“But if you're not interested...”
He pulls open the door and I feel it. That want to have my brother in my life but I wasn't about to get all sappy about it.
“Wait...”
He turns, looking at me.
“Maybe I’ll go with you to see what it's all about and then... well maybe you can like... come to my show. No promises though... alright?”
He smiles, crossing the distance to crush me in a hug.
“That's my baby sis.”
He lets me go and I suddenly feel like I can breath again.
“I’ll call. You’ll see me Sunday Chels.”
He whistles a little as he leaves and I shake my head. This better not backfire on me.
